


It's a good thing you can't write for shit

by justthissideofsanity



Category: The Catcher in the Rye - J. D. Salinger
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Catcher in the Rye - Freeform, F/M, He's also kinda a dick at times, Help, Holden has bad grammar, I have no idea what to tag this hunk of shit, Kinda, Modern AU, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sparklife made me do it, Writing shitty essays, bad language, coffee shop AU, cursing, so kinda, they meet in a coffee shop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justthissideofsanity/pseuds/justthissideofsanity
Summary: A stiff, chilly breeze blew past Holden that both shocked and refreshed him. If he was poetically inclined, he might have compared that gust of wind to the girl that had just entered his life like a whirlwind. The girl with the blue hair and the bright eyes, the smattering of freckles that danced across her nose and cheeks, the one with the foul mouth but the easy, beautiful smile, the one that was clear and straightforward but an enigma at the same time. In that coffee shop, heavy with the scent of espresso and aged wood, she sat quietly by the window like a light spring rain, crisp and youthful.Yes, perhaps if Holden was so romantically and eloquently predisposed, he might have thought all of those things. Maybe he might have written them down.But as it were, the breeze only caused him to pull his coat tighter around himself, huff out a breath, and turn himself in the direction of his dorm.He still had an essay to turn in, after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting a story anywhere at all and it's freaking me out so tell me how you like it. Be honest. I don't mind.
> 
> Half of this is inspired by this - http://tinyurl.com/z37cd6c - and the other half by Polyvore so there
> 
> Outfit for the chapter - http://www.polyvore.com/you_looked_like_you_needed/set?id=213327245

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time posting a story anywhere at all and it's freaking me out so tell me how you like it. Be honest. I don't mind.
> 
> Inspired by this - http://tinyurl.com/z37cd6c

She breathed out noisily, forcing her eyes to turn back to her laptop screen. 

The half-finished poem on her laptop and her bangin’ tunes should have been able to keep her occupied. However, Dave Bayley proved useless in distracting her from the train wreck that was sitting close by her table. Some guy was trying (not very hard) to write an essay on Native Americans. It was hard to discern the actual topic of the thing because nothing in the essay made sense. The way he was writing it made her want to rip just about all of her hair out.

It wasn’t in essay format at _all_. His vernacular was informal and just wrong. He had so many grammar and spelling mistakes that she was amazed that he could ignore the amount of red and green squiggles on his screen. He didn’t seem to understand the actual point of the essay; he just seemed to be writing random things about Native Americans. He wasn’t consulting any sources at all, either. On top of all that, he looked like he hadn’t sleep in four days and wore a permanent scowl. 

His whole…everything screamed college student. 

Watching him mistype yet another word, she dropped her head into her arms. He was actually giving her anxiety. Instead of torturing herself, she peeked up and focused her eyes on the kid instead of his terrible writing. 

Light brown hair stuck out from a maroon ball cap on his head. He had a dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks that probably would have been cuter if he smiled. The freckles continued down the portion of his arms that she could see; his gray shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His undershirt was some beige-brown nonsense, and he wore dark blue jeans with worn, brown boots peeking out. He was taller than normal and not overly muscular, but…he had a good set of arms on him. Not that she was paying attention. 

In the middle of her scrutinizing, he let out a long breath of air and sighed to himself. It was almost a growl. He snatched his cap off his head and ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. She wondered what horrid thing he wrote this time as her eyes flicked to his screen yet again. 

_“Lots of people know that the Natives used to sacrifice babies to their sun gods, but the government stopped that.”_

“Oh fuck me.”

She paused her music, closed her laptop, and unplugged her headphones, slinging them around her neck. The guy heard her quiet curse and turned her way. His scowl deepened when she got closer and sat beside him. She yanked his computer away from his idiotic fingers, pulling it closer to herself.

“What’re you doin’?” he questioned angrily.  
“This bullshit essay is making me want to vomit.” She said bluntly. He was too confused and shocked by her actions and her words to do anything else other than stare at her. 

Her fingers flew across the keyboard; she started with fixing the grammatical errors. They took the least amount of time. 

“What even is this supposed to _be_ about?” she muttered angrily.

He seemed to shake off the initial surprise. “The life of Native Americans. It’s dumb.” He paused. “Why’re you fixin’ my essay anyhow? You don’t even know me.” His voice was still hostile.

She glanced at him. “First of all, the Native Americans are not _dumb_ , they are one of the most ingenious groups of people on the planet, and two, you _really_ look like you need help. And a coffee.” 

“Aah.” He sighed again. “My goddamn suitemate wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

“Shoulda told him to fuck off.”

Again struck with surprise, he eyed the girl, actually taking in her appearance for the first time. 

She had bright turquoise highlights in her chocolate-brown hair. There was a splash of freckles across her nose. She had a gray sweater on, and iridescent headphones hung haphazardly around her neck. He spied black leggings and worn converse before she sat down. He watched her nose scrunch, and he assumed she was looking at more of his bullshit.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that his essay was a literal piece of trash, but if he didn’t turn something in he was fucked for the class. He had a couple shitty paragraphs down before his suitemate sauntered in his door and started bugging him. Even though he told the asshat he had an essay due that night, the annoying, scrawny boy wouldn’t leave him alone. Eventually, he gave up and made his way to the only coffee shop around that _didn’t_ fuck up a regular cup of joe.

Since he knew exactly fuck-all about the Indians, or Native Americans, or _whatever_ they were called (Aw c’mon, Mr. Rodney, s’not like they’re around to correct me or nothin’!), he had no intentions of taking his laptop back from this strange girl. 

He glanced at the screen, and none of those annoying red and green lines greeted him. Damn. She worked fast. 

He watched her take a breath and close her eyes. She opened them and stretched over to grab her bag and her laptop from the previously occupied table. She quickly scrolled through her music until she seemed satisfied, then plugged her shiny headphones in. She reached in her bag next and pulled out a wallet, digging a ten out and placing it in front of the boy.

“Go get us some coffee. Ask for Joey, that fucker knows what I like. Get whatever you want.” She muttered. He was quiet for a few moments, glancing at the cash and back at the girl.

“Don’t much make it a habit of lettin’ ladies pay for me.” He stated slowly, his brows scrunching together slightly. She paused her rapid typing and looked back at him. She seemed to consider him for a beat. A small smirk graced her lips, and he thought the mischievous grin was quite fitting on her.

“Well, then you’re less of a dumbass then I thought you were.” It was a gentlemanly statement, she thought, despite the poor delivery. She didn’t miss the use of the word lady instead of girl, either. 

“’Sides, you’re fixin’ my essay and all. Shouldn’t I be buying you a coffee instead?”

She hummed. “I’m sure this isn’t the only time we’ll see each other; you can pay me back some other time if you want. Anyway, you letting me fix this monstrosity is payment enough.” She slid the money a little closer, silently urging him up. 

He stayed seated, still unsure.

She sighed and turned, facing her body to his and returning her headphones to their position around her neck. “Look,” she started, “if you get me my coffee, I’ll tell you aaall about my life story and the reason I have more fucking money than I know what to do with.” She said quietly. Without breaking eye contact, she grabbed her wallet and flicked it open, showing him the many fifties, twenties, and tens crammed inside. “This cash has been collecting dust in here for a week. Buy me coffee and I’ll tell you why.”

His eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the bills. He thought he could even spy a few hundreds in there too. The boy’s gaze flicked back to her striking, deep blue eyes.

 

This was, without a doubt, the _weirdest_ fucking experience he had ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outfit for the chapter - http://www.polyvore.com/you_looked_like_you_needed/set?id=213327245


	2. Chapter 2

He eyed her for another beat, then gave in. 

“Fine.” He muttered gruffly. “I’m hearin’ that story though.” He snatched the bill up and made his way to the counter. She watched him walk away before resuming her work, relaxing now that she could finally listen to her music and spell check in peace.

The brown-haired boy sauntered back over after a few minutes, two cups in hand. She accepted the one he stretched out to her. He said something to her as he sat down. Pausing her music, she threw him a “Huh?”

“I was sayin’ that weird little gremlin wrote a nickname or somethin’ your cup. Think he was tryna scare me off .” He grunted before taking a sip of what you could only assume was straight black coffee. You grumbled a little.

“Fuckin’ Paul. He thinks he sex on legs, a goddamn gift to women. Won’t leave me alone. Just wants a good fuck.” At that, her similarly foul-mouthed counterpart frowned. 

“Haven’t told him to fuck off yet?” 

She smiled at the echoed words from earlier, then shrugged. “Eh, its not like he’s done anything to me, he’s just…creepy, I guess. Annoying.” He grunted again, still unhappy.

A few more moments passed in relatively comfortable silence. He noticed that she has skewed one side of her headphones so that her ear was sticking out. Her eyes darted across his laptop screen, and he marveled at her typing speed. Occasionally, she would switch to her own laptop, which was covered in a plethora of stickers, to change her music. That’s what he assumed anyway. He also noticed that she glanced at anyone that strayed inside the warm shop, and anyone that stood up, or just generally moved. Her eyes would flick to the movement, seeming to clock the action, before returning to the essay. It was a small thing, but decided to file that information away for later.

The tall boy sat quietly, switching between sipping his coffee, staring at the colorful stickers, and watching the girl work. After a few more minutes, she glanced up at him.

“The fuck’s your name, anyway?” she asked abruptly. He honestly couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that bubbled from him.

“Holden.” He offered with a small, charming smile.

She snorted. “That’s a dumb fuckin’ name.” Had it been anyone else, Holden would have snapped back at them and probably got in a fight, but she wore a half smile, and he caught her eyes crinkle slightly before she turned her attention back to the screen. He laughed quietly, his shoulders shaking gently. 

“Well what the fuck is your name?” Holden asked, still laughing.

“Elizabeth.” She replied. 

“S’a pretty name.” he murmured. The faintest of blushes graced her cheeks, but she offered no reply. 

That was how the afternoon was spent. Holden would observe quietly; watching the gi- _Elizabeth_ , he reminded himself – then the other patrons of the coffee shop, the grain of the wood of their table, her computer, the way her eyes would narrow when she was thinking particularly hard. He had a nice brief staring match with _fuckin Paul_ , silently daring him to say _anything_ to him or Elizabeth. The sandy-haired boy behind the counter glared at the two of them for a few minutes. Holden hadn’t spoken a word to the kid yet but he disgusted Holden. He always hated guys that didn’t know when the shove off and leave a girl alone. Holden tried to stand up for girls at bars and in class that were being pestered by phony gentlemen who only wanted somewhere to stick their dicks. It got him into quite a few fights. He didn’t really regret them, though, even when he broke his hand from punching a guy’s lights out. He got a kiss on the cheek and a number out of that one though, so hey.

After an hour or so, he realized at the rate she was going, she coulda probably written whole book instead of the ten pages he really needed.

“It’s only gotta be like, ten pages or somethin’.” He spoke suddenly, a little worried. He should have told her earlier. A concerned crease found its way between his brows.

“Good thing I’m on eight and a half.” She murmured quietly over her coffee with another small smile. 

He released a sigh. “You work fast. Don’t make it too smart or nothin’. M’kinda a blockhead, and my teacher will prolly notice if it’s too good.” She laughed.

“I’ll dumb it down for ya. I’ll even put Wikipedia as a source.” They shared a smile. 

She noticed his words were a little more slurred than previously. The sun that was dimmed through the blinds of the coffee shop warmed the both of them. She also didn’t miss the bags under his eyes and the way they were drooping; his coffee must have been wearing off. She wondered idly about the last time he slept. 

A few minutes later found him dropping his head onto his crossed arms with yet another quiet sigh. Ten more minutes found him fully asleep. A closing paragraph away from a shitty, completed essay found the blue haired girl plucking the cap off his head and placing it on her own, albeit backwards. She smiled secretly at the messy head of hair in front of her before resuming her work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outfit for the chapter - http://www.polyvore.com/you_looked_like_you_needed/set?id=213327245


	3. Chapter 3

Saving the disgrace of an essay under the title “You’re welcome, fucker”, she closed Holden’s laptop gently before regarding his sleeping form. He was still slouched on his arms, the light of the dying sun streaming through the windows painting his features a gentle orange. The freckles on his cheeks and the shadows cast by his eyelashes made him look like a renaissance painting. 

Struck with a thought, she quickly fished her camera from her bag, found a good angle, and snapped a few photos. She regarded them quickly before hiding her camera again. She would study them more closely later.

Elizabeth knew the quant little shop was closing soon, but she didn’t want to wake Holden. She regretted robbing him of what seemed to be the only sleep he got in the past two days. 

A thought crossed her mind that she had only known this boy for a few hours, yet she already considered him a friend. Hell, she just wrote him an entire essay. She probably would have invited him to her apartment for shitty Chinese food if her common sense told her that he might rob her – or worse. 

Well, no need to jump the gun. She would settle with a normal friendship for now. Getting coffee, insulting his outfits. The usual.

 _People have probably married each other in less time._ She thought to herself with a sense of finality. There was nothing wrong with being his friend after the short time they had known each other.

She reached over and carded her hands through his surprisingly soft locks once, before tugging on the ends a little. He shifted slightly and mumbled something indiscernible. She sighed, already feeling bad.

“Hey.” She whispered softly. “Holdeeeeen.” She sang quietly. He still didn’t move. 

They were the only two left in the shop, and while she knew Joey and Sailor (or Frick and Frack, as she liked to call them), wouldn’t kick them out right away, she knew that had to close eventually.

The blue haired girl resorted to tugging on his ear until he tried to swat her hand away like an unwanted fly. “Hey.” She tried again, a little louder. He finally shifted, and raised his head to peer at her with squinted eyes. He hummed a little.

“What? What time’sit?” he questioned. She was thrown for a second; his voice was that perfect deep and gravelly from having just woken up, and it was incredibly attractive. She stared into his green eyes, dumbfounded, before finally replying.

“Its five. We gotta go so these idiots can close.”

He squinted at her blearily before leaning back until his chair was tipped on two legs and sucking in a large breath. He stretched his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of his toned stomach that _just wasn’t fucking fair._ He blew out a big puff of air, scrubbing a hand down his face. His light green eyes regarded her for a beat, his hair slightly tousled from his nap.

“Can’t believe you just wrote my whole fuckin’ paper.”

The girl laughed. “And even without a gun to my head.” Holden smiled.

His mouth opened, ready to ask how the _fuck_ they became friends this fast, how weird it was that she just wrote his entire essay, thank her for writing that essay, maybe offer her dinner, or money, or _something_ , when he heard someone approach their table. He turned.

“You know we’re closing soon, sweetcheecks. Hate to kick you out, but…”

His whole mood darkened immediately. Holden’s face fell back into the deep scowl that he wore more often than he cared to admit. His brows lowered like thunderclouds, but he stayed silent. 

“S’fine, Paul, we were just leaving anyway.” Elizabeth’s voice was flat and quiet, unlike the animated, colorful tone she usually had. He noticed her discomfort as soon as the kid spoke, the way she leaned away from him, slipping her laptop into her bag. Her warm, placid attitude was gone, replaced with something colder. “Told’ya not to call me that, either.”

Paul smiled, but it was a wolfish grin, disconcerting and slightly predatory. “Well I gotta call you something, sugar.”

“How ‘bout her name?” Holden shot back stiffly. This fucker was already getting on his nerves.

The other boy seemed to size Holden up for a minute. “It’s just a nickname, dude. Who is this guy Lizzy?”

Her head snapped up as she shoved her headphones into her bag. “ELIZABETH.” She spat angrily. “My fucking name is Elizabeth. Either call me by my name or don’t talk to me at all.” She stood abruptly, intending to walk out without a confrontation, but a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist painfully, jolting the girl to a stop.

“Not really a fan of that tone your usin’.” Paul stated lowly. 

Like lightning, the blue-haired girl twisted her wrist out of his grasp and jerked away from him, shocked. At the same time, Holden stood up and stepped towards him, chest to chest with the kid. He was a good inch taller.

“M’not really a fan of douches that put their hands on nice ladies.” Holden quietly countered, staring down the shorter boy.

Paul narrowed his eyes and scowled, aiming a shove at Holden’s shoulder. His shoulder took the blow but the boy himself barely moved.

“What are you, her knight in shining armor? You don’t even know her.”

“I know she thinks you’re a grade-A jackass.” 

Paul recoiled slightly, and a stunned look came over his face, but it disappeared almost instantly. “Fuck you.” He spat, with another shove.

Holden wasn’t really a fan of the three-strike rule; he was always ready for a fight, so he went with the two-strike rule instead. It was just easier, he thought. 

As soon as the shorter boy’s hand hit his shoulder, he aimed a hearty shove at Paul’s chest, sending him sprawling awkwardly into a table before he hit the ground with a loud thud.

Holden glared down at the boy. He was so ready to fight this asshole for real. He started towards him but a hand tugged at his shirtsleeve. He glanced back at Elizabeth. 

“Forget it Holden. It’s not worth it.” She muttered. He frowned, turning back to the jerk on the ground.

Just as the blond started to get to his feet, voices echoed out from the back of the coffee shop.

“You guys okay?”

“What happened out here?”

A tall, attractive boy rounded the counter with a shorter one right behind him. The taller one had soft tufts of dark brown hair to go with his stylishly messy beard. The short one had messier locks of a similar color and a boyish look to him. The latter was the one that spoke up.

“What the hell happened?”

The small girl muttered an explanation. “Nothin’, just a wet spot. He fell.” 

Holden turned to her quickly. “What…?” he sent her an angry, quizzical look. She just shook her head at him. His lips pressed into a thin line. He glared at the now upright Paul. 

“Yea, just a wet spot.” The blond agreed, staring at Holden. “Nothin’ to worry about.”

The tall boy studied Paul for a few seconds before sighing. “Alright...well, you and Joey can go back and finish hauling the bags in for tomorrow. I’ll see our guests out and get that…spot mopped up.”

Joey nodded and sent Elizabeth a brief smile. “See you tomorrow dork.” She smiled back at him as he and Paul made their way to the back. A final glare was thrown at Holden. He smirked in response. _Kid woulda been fucked if this was a real brawl_ he thought to himself.

“Wet spot, huh?” 

Holden watched as she avoided the tall barista’s pointed stare, fiddling with the strap on her bag. The boy sighed again, and grasped her chin gently. She glanced around uneasily before finally locking eyes with him, her head tilted up slightly to accommodate for the height difference. Holden felt like he was invading something incredibly private. His blue-haired friend fidgeted some more before finally replying.

“He was bein’ an asshole, like usual.” She muttered. 

The handsome boy sighed, releasing her chin. “What happened?”

She grumbled again. “He called me sweetcheecks, I told him off, he grabbed my arm and said he ‘didn’t like my tone’ so Holden shoved him.”

A shocked look came over his face, his eyebrows drawing together. “He grabbed you?” She gave a small nod.

“I shoulda just knocked his ass out.” Holden spoke up.

The taller one regareded Holden for a beat, then laughed. “I have a feeling that would have been a ‘two-hit’ kinda fight.” He offered a hand. “Sailor.”

“Holden.” He replied, giving it a firm shake.

“Well, thanks for sticking up for this nerd.” Sailor said, tugging on the blue tips of Elizabeth’s hair. She smacked his hand away with a quietly fond _“Fucker.”_ He smiled at the short girl, before sighing and scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Alright, well, get out of here. I’ll deal with cock and balls back there.” He rested his hand on Holden’s shoulder while he was passing, offering a quiet _“Nice to meet you man.”_

Holden finally looked back at Elizabeth, blowing out a breath.

“Seems like you gotta lot of stories to tell me.” He finally said. She pulled a face.

“Seems I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outfit for the chapter - http://www.polyvore.com/you_looked_like_you_needed/set?id=213327245


	4. Chapter 4

Before they parted ways that evening, Elizabeth tugged her new friend’s phone out of his grasp, handing her own over wordlessly. He hesitantly thanked her again for the essay, still baffled at why she did it and why she wanted nothing in return. He gladly offered up his number, however; if anything, she was interesting to talk to. Giving her his number couldn’t hurt. 

He didn’t mention the hat that was still perched on her head; he liked it better on her anyway. He typed his number in and handed it back to the girl. She traded that for his laptop, still tucked safely under her arm. Then, with a small, wordless smile, she turned silently walked away. The boy stood, somewhat stunned, and watched her make her way through the thinning crowds of people, most making their way back from work.

A stiff, chilly breeze blew past Holden that both shocked and refreshed him. If he was poetically inclined, he might have compared that gust of wind to the girl that had just entered his life like a whirlwind. The girl with the blue hair and the bright eyes, the smattering of freckles that danced across her nose and cheeks, the one with the foul mouth but the easy, beautiful smile, the one that was clear and straightforward but an enigma at the same time. In that coffee shop, heavy with the scent of espresso and aged wood, she sat quietly by the window like a light spring rain, crisp and youthful.

Yes, perhaps if Holden was so romantically and eloquently predisposed, he might have thought all of those things. Maybe he might have written them down. But as it were, the breeze only caused him to pull his coat tighter around himself, huff out a breath, and turn himself in the direction of his dorm. 

He still had an essay to turn in, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so short, it just seemed awkward to have it with the last chapter or the next one hng


	5. Chapter 5

Surprisingly, Holden never actually worked up the nerve to text his new friend. The only things they had messaged each other was a simple “thanks for the help” and “your welcome loser”. 

That was true up until he was standing in front of his history teacher inside of a completely full lecture hall, his cheeks a bright red.

It had been a long day.

His day had started at an unholy hour, when his roommate was getting ready for him morning class. Really, 7:45 am wasn’t that crazy, but it was early for Holden, who normally only rolled out of bed at 10 or later.

Then, he found out the hard way that the cafeteria was closed because of a gas leak, which meant he had nothing to eat. 

On his way to his 11 o’clock history class, he managed to snag his favorite shirt on a fence railing and rip it.

Finally, to top it all off, his professor called him out for his essay in front of the entire lecture hall, stating that based on his previous work and effort in the class, there was no way he could turn in an essay of that “caliber.”

Which was how he ended up here, staring down the elderly, sneering man with a beet-red face while a hundred-plus students watched on.

Yes, this day was not the greatest.

“Holden? Did you really expect me to believe that _you_ wrote this essay yourself, with absolutely _no_ plagiarism whatsoever?” The man said condescendingly. 

With one hand shoved in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck, he mumbled, “I had some…help.”

Mr. Rodney snorted disbelievingly. “That’s not help, Mr. Caulfield, that’s _plagiarism._ You stole someone else’s work and claimed it as your own.” He spoke down his nose at the boy like Holden was an annoying kindergartener. 

At his words, Holden felt himself start to get confrontational. “I didn’t _steal_ anythin’. A friend was helpin’ me out.” He paused. “I wrote the thing, she just helped me with my..research.” He tried to keep his pauses at a minimal. He always was shit at lying. 

The crotchety man rolled his eyes, setting down the essay and removing his glasses. “I suppose this _friend_ of yours attends college here, am I correct?”

Holden’s mind raced. He couldn’t pinpoint her ever saying that she attended his college, or if she even attended school at all. He had a feeling it was a yes but…

“Yea she does.” His pause was quick and unnoticeable. He shifted from one foot to the other, uneasy. He never much liked being the center of attention, and he could feel about a hundred eyes watching the exchange like a hawk. “She doesn’t have class today though.” He clamped his mouth shut. That was unnecessary. The reason he was so shitty at lying was because he started adding extra details and babbling on about irrelevant shit and he couldn’t keep his big fuckin’ mouth shut.

At the last sentence, his professor’s eyes appeared to gleam with sick joy.

Mr. Rodney gave the boy a crusty smile. “Well, I’d _love_ to meet her.” 

It took Holden a beat, and then he was sure he visibly paled. 

_Aw fuck._

“Mr. Rodn-“

“Enough, Holden. I want you to stand there in front of my desk and call this friend of yours, and if she is not in this classroom in ten minutes I’m failing you for this class.”

He opened his mouth several times, intending to argue, but his teacher’s expression never wavered and he refused to offer another option. After a beat of silence, Holden sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket. His shoulders hunched as he pressed the phone icon. He turned slightly away from the older man, towards the door where he didn’t have to look at anyone. The lecture hall was still silent.

This was mortifying.


	6. Chapter 6

The call screen interrupted her scrolling. Her eyebrows scrunched together. They hadn’t really spoken, only texted once. Plus, he didn’t seem like the type to call someone. She mentally shrugged, clicked the green button, and slid the phone under her hair to her ear.

“What’s up, pottymouth?” 

“Yea, uh – hey.”

“Do you need me to teach you English now?” she joked lightly. She barely managed to catch the quiet laugh from the other end. The street was noisy, and she quickly checked the road before jogging to the other side. 

“What’s going on, Holden?” her tone was more serious now.

Unbeknownst to her, Holden was still hunched in on himself and speaking as quiet as he could, but his voice still seemed to resound loudly in the large lecture hall. 

“Okay, uh, listen,” he started. Luckily, a few students had taken pity on him and were having their own quiet conversations, trying to direct the focus away from the obviously uncomfortable boy. “I’m in my history class right now and, uh, my professor thinks I’m lyin’.” He paused.

“Not a mind reader, Holden.”

“Uh right, well, he…he thinks I’m lyin’ about the essay. Uh, that you helped me with it. Thinks I stole it or, somethin’…” he trailed off, humiliated. He had basically been called a dumbass in front of everyone and now had to admit that to Elizabeth. He kinda just wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. 

On the other end of the phone, there was silence, and she stopped, edging closer to the building in order to get out of the busy commuters’ way. She was dumbfounded. Holden did say that his essays weren’t normally that good, but she really thought she had made it… _improper_ enough that it sounded like him. As for plagiarism, which she assumed is what Holden meant by “stealing”, it would have been incredibly easy for the professor to check for “borrowed” sentences or essays. There were a plethora of websites that searched for things like that.

Besides that, she wasn’t sure what the purpose of the phone call was.

“O-kay...so what now?” She asked, hesitantly. 

“Well…..” he started. 

_This can’t be good._ She thought to herself.

“He wants you here in ten minutes or he’ll fail me.” Holden held his breath.

“…”

“Uh, okay.” She agreed lamely. 

He started, and his eyes widened. “Wait what?”

“Yea, I’m like, five minutes away. I just have to pick something up then I can head over there.” She started walking again, with a little more purpose. 

“Oh, uh, ok. Great.” He hung up before his big stupid mouth could say anything else. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and glanced at his professor. He still had that damn smirk on his face. 

“Now we wait.” He grunted. 

Holden stood awkwardly in front of the man. The lecture hall was significantly more active but still hushed with the gentle sounds of shifting papers and quiet conversation. 

A chirp sounded from his pocket. He tugged it out a checked the screen.

Elizabeth: _what building and room number idiot_

He blushed again. _Course she needed to know where you are, moron_ he thought irritably. He typed out a reply.

Holden: _building 5 room 34_

Elizabeth: _k, be there soon_

____________________

A few minutes later, when she entered the lecture hall, Holden would admit that he was staring a little. 

If it wasn’t the loud, commanding echoes of her shoes on the hardwood floor, it would have been the two puppies on leashes that were excitingly sniffing everything that was close enough to them. 

And if neither of those things somehow managed to capture Holden’s attention or the attention of everyone else in the room, it would have been her outfit.

This was nothing like what she wore that first day at the coffee shop. That day, she was cute and warm. The sweater, the glasses that rested on the bridge of her nose, her relaxed demeanor. This was not like that day.

Today, her hair was down and slightly wavy. She wore a white, long-sleeved scoop necked shirt. Her neck was adorned with a gold necklace. The sleeves were pushed up slightly, and a colorful watch graced one wrist. Her skirt was pink and fell about mid-thigh. Her bright eyes were highlighted by a sharp wing of eyeliner.

Her shoulders were squared, her head was high, and she walked with an assured air about her. 

She was _oozing confidence_ , and it took his breath away. 

“Hello, Mr. Rodney, pleasure to meet you.” She said in a sure voice, offering her hand. “My name’s Elizabeth. Holden called about an essay…?”

The professor was a little stunned. He hastily stood from his seat and took her offered hand. An air of nervousness swirled around him.

“Ah, yes, of course! Of course, just wanted to clear some things up.” He stammered.

She smiled, but Holden could plainly see that it never reached her eyes. She turned, and quietly gave an order and a hand signal to the two puppies. The black and white one reacted immediately, sitting close beside her. The brown one took a little longer, shuffling on his feet. The girl persisted, however, and the little pup eventually sat down. She returned her attention to the wrinkly man in front of her.

“So sorry about that, I was on my way to pick them up when I got the call, and I couldn’t leave them at the groomer, you see. Anyway, I hate to keep you from your lesson, I’m sure this is important class time.” 

Her voice was…different. Higher. No, that wasn’t the right word. It was...fake he realized with a bit of a start.

She was acting. 

It was unsettling.

“Oh no, of course not, this-“ Mr. Rodney started to protest.

“I'll come back after class. Eleven-fifteen, correct?” she continued over him.

“Y-yes, of course, of course! That would be wonderful.” He sputtered. “So sorry for calling you in here like this, but I had to – ah, make sure.” He finished haltingly. 

Her eyes flashed coldly at his words. If it was possible, her smile was even faker than it was before. She was tense, and was clutching the leashes still in her hand. 

“Of course.” The words were complete ice, nothing like the warm tones that he usually associated with his blue-haired friend. 

It occurred to Holden then that he was noticing a lot of things about Elizabeth. He didn’t have much time to reflect on that thought as she spoke up again. 

“I’ll see you then.” Her eyes flicked to Holden for a second before she turned and made her way out of the room, her puppies in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outfit for this chapter - http://www.polyvore.com/you_cant_always_look_homeless/set?id=123850111
> 
> Puppies for this chapter :) - http://www.polyvore.com/winston_ranger/set?id=139345531


	7. Chapter 7

_Early._

She thought to herself as she checked her watch.

_11:07_

She waited until the stream of students from the doorways slowed, and picked her way inside. The girl kept her puppies close to her side, making sure they didn’t get under anyone’s feet. 

The professor was packing his things up, and when he noticed she had entered the hall again, he moved a little quicker, a little more nervously than before. 

She smiled to herself.

_Ah, men._

She had spent the last twenty-five or so minutes fuming in the hallway about the whole ordeal, and had worked up quite a hatred for the elderly man in front of her. She was more than livid over the fact that he called Holden out in front of the whole class, but to have him call and basically demand she show up? It was unfathomable. Ridiculous. Not to mention incredibly rude. She half hoped one of her puppies would shit on the floor or something.

She sighed internally. No, it was better to continue her act. If she was sickly sweet to his face, he would have no idea how much she hated him. Which was _so_ satisfying. Plus, if she acted like a dick to him now, he would probably fail Holden just by association. It seemed like he was already prejudiced against the boy. No need to give him any more reason. 

Holden gave her one of his tiny smiles, which she returned (of course), and she wordlessly handed him the leashes. He took them a little hesitantly. When she was sure the professor was busy shoving papers into his bag, she gave Holden a punch on the arm. His smile grew. 

Mr. Rodney finally finished his urgent backing and turned to the two. Elizabeth stepped close to his desk and leaned a hip on it, folding her arms. 

“So what can I do to clear things up, Mr. Rodney?” she asked. 

“Ah, yes, well…” he trailed off, wringing his hands nervously.

“It’s just that…Mr. Caulfield’s writing has improved _greatly_ with this essay, and it was a tad suspicious. This was nothing like his previous work, which is why I was a bit concerned. Plagiarism is not tolerated at this campus.” 

“Of course. Well, Holden is a good friend of mine, and when he came to me about this essay, I was more than happy to help. The Native American people have always interested me,” she flashed a smile, “so I offered him some knowledge and reliable sources, and I reviewed his essay as well. He compiled the information, and he wrote the essay. I did nothing more than aid him with it.” 

The man opened his mouth as if to reply, but she quickly spoke up. “As far as plagiarism, I’m sure that you’re aware of the many websites that can check for stolen work. I don’t think Holden would mind sending you a digital copy.” 

They both glanced at the boy in question. Currently, he was crouched on the ground, his backpack forgotten beside him. He held one puppy in his hand, and the other was gnawing on his finger. When he looked up, feeling eyes on him, his soft smile disappeared. 

“Oh, uh-yea, I could send ya a copy.” 

She smiled again and returned her attention to the man. “I hope this cleared things up for you, professor.”

“Y-yes, of course, thank you very much. I apologize if this caused any inconvenience to you.” He replied earnestly. 

“Oh no, of _course_ not, I understand how important this was.” If she laid on any more sarcasm it was liable to gain sentience and punch the man in the face. As it were, Mr. Rodney merely smiled, unaware of the girls’ bubbling anger. 

Elizabeth turned, noticing Holden now held both puppies, and scooped his bag off the floor, making her way out the door.

“I hope you have a g-good – a good one.” He called after them.

She ignored the stuttered parting words and continued down the hall. She could hear Holden following behind her. 

 

She needed to punch something.

 

She walked fast and hard, not caring how loud her shoes echoed in the long hallway. Luckily, Holden’s long legs allowed him to keep pace with her without too much trouble. She was weaving her way in between students with a stormy expression. 

She was absolutely _fuming._

Finally, the pair found their way outside, and Elizabeth sucked in a breath of fresh air, willing her frazzled nerves to calm themselves. Behind her, she could practically feel Holden’s trepidation. 

She spun on her heel to face him, and didn't miss his slightly panicked expression.

“Do you like Chinese food?”

_________________

 

He had agreed, of course, and without another word she had turned, phone already to her ear. He had followed her for a few blocks with the puppies still clutched to his chest. After a short phone call with someone named Sebastian, they continued walking in terse silence. He could tell she was still seething with anger, so he hadn’t tried to start any sort of conversation. She led him towards a corner apartment where, a short elevator ride later, he stood inside her apartment. 

If it was fair to really call it that. 

It was nicer than most _houses_ he had ever been in, never mind other apartments. As soon as you walked in the door, there was a small kitchen to the right, which was open to see out into the living room. There was a counter on the other side with barstools. Floor to ceiling windows took up the wall he was facing, which was made more impressive by the vaulted ceilings and the way the glass turned the corner. This meant the windows occupied two walls instead of one, and they were framed by large curtains. A comfy-looking white couch and TV where the main pieces of furniture in the living room, and pictures and paintings decorated the walls. Different types of small plants and flower were strewn around, seeming to take up every available counter space. He noticed two little dog beds situated next to the couch. He could see a few doors, but they were all closed, so he could only guess what wondrous rooms were behind them. 

He placed the puppies on the ground and freed them from their leashes. They scampered off, biting softly at each others’ ears. 

Now, Holden stood slowly and watched Elizabeth angrily straighten up the already flawless apartment. He decided to risk speaking.

“Hey so, uh, thanks for showin’ up 'n all.”

“He should’ve never made you call me in the first place!” The sentence was awkwardly worded, but the words were spat like venom. She finally locked gazes with him, and the fury was plain in her eyes. He didn’t really understand her anger. I mean sure, it was a little embarrassing, but Holden had already gotten over it. He would probably get a passing grade on the essay, so there was that. 

She was pacing now, arms folded. “I mean how…I can’t believe that actually just happened. Who calls someone out like that? In front of a whole goddamn lecture class?” she stopped long enough to tug her boots off, tossing them on the floor, and then she continued her aggressive walking. “He should have asked to see you after class. Or emailed you. Or just fucking checked for plagiarism himself! It's not that hard, fucks sake,” he decided he should interject before she started breaking things.

“I mean, I get it, y’know? I’m this moron kid in his class who turns in shitty essays all the fuckin’ time, then suddenly I’m a genius? It's kinda suspicious…” the last part was mumbled, and he trailed off uncertainly. 

Her pacing stopped abruptly, and _aw fuck_ , he really didn’t want to get yelled at. 

“Holden.” His name was said forcefully, and she padded quietly over and gripped his arms, looking up at him. “You could be the dumbest fucking person on the entire fucking planet and he still would have no right to do that to you. It was rude, embarrassing, and just... so many levels of wrong.” She wasn’t yelling, thank God, but her tone left no room for argument. “He basically told everyone in that room that he thought you were a fucking idiot and that's…just absolutely horrible.” She was staring so intently at him that he started to shift uncomfortably. 

“…Okay.” He murmured hesitantly. She only gripped his arms a little more tightly.

“Holden, you get how wrong that was, right?”

He shrugged.

“He wasn’t wrong.” She opened her mouth as if to say something but he cut her off.

“Everythin’ he said was true. I didn’t write that essay, you did. So I kinda did steal. And he was right about how I could never write somethin' like that on my own.” She was still holding him, and he noticed their close proximity. The beginnings of a blush started creeping up his freckled cheeks. _Why’s she gotta stand so fuckin' close to me…_

Her intense, dark blue eyes weren't helping either.

“It was still out of line, Holden-“

“Look, Lizzie-“

The pair were interrupted by a soft knock at the door, shaking the two out of their staring contest. 

She finally released him with a shake of her head, and brushed past him towards the door, her final words thrown over her shoulder quietly, “This conversation isn’t over.”

 

____________________________

 

Turns out it was none other than the mysterious Sebastian. He was old enough to be Elizabeth’s father, but Holden could tell that he wasn’t. He was dressed in a nice gray suit, and tortoiseshell glasses rested on his nose. Light stubble could be seen on his jaw, and it was the same salt-and-pepper color as the rest of his hair. 

Elizabeth merely opened the door for him, and he made his way inside. He placed the bag in his hands on the counter, and Holden already caught the scent wafting from it. God, he was hungry. 

“You got something for yourself, right?”

“Yes of course, I know how you get when you don’t see me eat with your own two bloody eyes. Really, Elizabeth, we’ve been over this.” He had a pleasant English accent that was laced with dry humor. He turned to Holden.

“And who might this be?” he asked.

“That’s Holden. Met him at the shop. Goes to college up the way.” She replied.

Holden was about to move to offer his hand, but the man beat him to it. “A pleasure, Holden,” he inclined his head slightly, “my name is Benedict Atley, but my master calls me Sebastian.” He had a firm shake, which Holden could appreciate.

“I’m not – you’re such a pain, Atley.” Elizabeth replied, fondly exasperated. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“As a matter of fact yes. I’ve managed to find time for myself in between catering to your every whim.”

“I swear I’m going to fire you.”

“You would not survive an hour without me, my dear.” He plucked two containers from the bag. “Do you have a recommendation?”

“The Rolls. She’s been sitting for a while.”

“My pleasure.” He rifled through a drawer before pulling out a pair of keys. He made his way back to the door and turned. “Will that be all, love?”

“Yes, Sebastian, enjoy yourself.”

He smiled at her, gave another nod to Holden, and then was out the door.

The freckled boy turned to his companion, who was placing the white containers on the marble counter and pulling out silverware and plates. He opened his mouth to ask, like, _so many questions_ , but she held up a hand and gave him a pleading expression. 

“Okay, I know. I know you have questions, you’ve had questions since that day in the coffee shop, you have questions about Paul, and Sailor, and Sebastian, and my apartment, my money, my whole fucking life, but…let’s eat, first. Then I promise you can ask me about whatever you want and I promise I’ll give you answers. I shoulda gave 'em to you a long time ago.” She paused.

“Just…let me sit and eat Chinese food for a minute. Okay?” he could tell she was drained, and while he guessed the fiasco with Mr. Rodney was taxing, he figured there was something else that was taking her energy. She looked like she deserved a massage and a nap. 

At his silent nod, she made herself and plate and padded out to the living room to place it on the coffee table. “I’m gonna go change. Just, y’know, make yourself at home or whatever. Don’t let the dogs eat my food.” She gave him a brief smile and disappeared into a room.

He should really start keeping a list of his weird experiences, 'cuz he had a feeling they were just gonna keep happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outfit for this chapter - http://www.polyvore.com/you_cant_always_look_homeless/set?id=123850111
> 
> Puppies for this chapter :) - http://www.polyvore.com/winston_ranger/set?id=139345531
> 
>  
> 
> Ok so Atley is Jeremy Irons from Batman v Superman. Like I'm not even gonna try to say that he isn't


	8. hiatus unfortunately

This is going on hiatus until summer, I'm very scatterbrained and have a hard time coming up with a solid outline for chapters. I have a lot of other writings I want to try, and I jump from fandom to fandom. I do have an idea of where I want this story to go, it's just a matter of me focusing and actually writing it down. So sorry about this, I hope you'll stick with me though. :)


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